


We Have Only Just Begun

by allflavoursofkink (Iolre)



Series: Johncroft Flavours [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn, Vamp!lock, Vampire!Mycroft, Vampires, dub con, fangs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/allflavoursofkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft tires of waiting for Sherlock to make a move, so he makes one of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for my All Flavours of Kink prompt blog that you can find [here.](http://allflavoursofkink.tumblr.com)
> 
> Prompt was: I got me a hankering for vampire!AU Johncroft, if that's something you'd consider writing? So it would incorporate D/s, soft mind control and dub con elements, as well as the inherent bloodplay side. Pretty much anything involving vampire!Mycroft deciding to have his way with John - maybe v early on at the warehouse, he can't let this tasty morsel his brother is playing with go to waste, maybe later - John's found out both Holmeses are vampires and Mycroft can't let that knowledge spread?

John would later say that he had no idea how he ended up like he did, pushed against a wall with Mycroft’s mouth hot on his neck. He remembered Mycroft coming over, Sherlock baiting him. Remembered thinking that the elder Holmes brother was rather attractive, but after that things went a bit fuzzy. Not that he was completely objecting, however. It had been quite a while since Sherlock had chased off his last girlfriend and he had been too busy to find a replacement. Pain flared for a moment, sharp, before dulling into something more tolerable, almost pleasurable. The vampire had bit him.

Mycroft held him up, one hand holding John’s head to the side and the other curling possessively about his hip, a long thigh slipping between John’s to ensure that he didn’t tip to the floor. He blinked lazily, not protesting, and slowly one of his hands found its way to Mycroft’s hip, flexing experimentally. Surely Mycroft could feel his erection. He was a Holmes, after all. It was an odd sense of euphoria when Mycroft lifted his head, blood staining his mouth red. “I cannot believe Sherlock did not feed off of you,” he murmured into the crook of John’s neck, eyes intently focused on the pinpricks still bleeding sluggishly.

“Hmm.” John wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a question, or a comment, or really, just saying something for the sake of saying it.

Mycroft’s thigh retreated and John frowned. That was bad, wasn’t it. He wanted it back. “I wonder…” Mycroft trailed off thoughtfully, and then a hand cupped John’s erection. Pulling back completely, Mycroft made room for John to make a straight line to the bedroom. “Go into the bedroom, remove your clothes, and get on the bed.” John shuddered, stumbling quickly into the bedroom, tossing off his clothing on the way. His cock was throbbing between his legs, adrenaline and lust surging hotly through his veins.

He laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting. A few moments later the door opened and he heard Mycroft step closer to the bed. “Very good,” Mycroft murmured, crawling onto the bed and leaning down to suck on the two puncture wounds. John’s skin tingled, euphoria dueling with pain, as Mycroft drank deeply for a few moments. “You’re quite delicious.”

“Thank you,” John replied awkwardly, his eyes still on the ceiling.

“Look at me,” Mycroft commanded, and John did. The elder Holmes’ fangs were protruding over his bottom lip, sharp and white. “Watch.”

John propped himself up on his elbows as Mycroft slid down his body, kissing and sucking at small bits of skin, occasionally grazing with his fangs to leave angry red marks but not actually puncturing the skin. The military doctor’s eyes grew wide. There was no way - oh, god. Mycroft’s tongue came out and lapped at the head of John’s cock, and he nearly came on the spot. Slowly Mycroft took John’s cock into his mouth, fangs pressing against the side. John lay back in the bed, his breath coming faster, catching in his chest as he attempted to control his racing pulse. Mycroft did not chide him, did not correct him, so apparently it was okay.

It was danger and heat and wet slickness and John moaned, fingers spasming uselessly against the tight cotton sheets. He pressed his thighs farther open, allowing Mycroft more room. There was a soft noise, a click, and a few seconds later there was a slick finger pressing against his entrance. John froze.

Which was good, considering there was a vampire with his mouth around his cock, fangs fully extended.

Moving probably wasn’t a really good option, all things considered.

He felt a surge of fear, of lust, and he whimpered, fingers clenching the sheets and nearly ripping the fabric. A finger pressed into him, confident, and curved until it glided over his prostate and John sobbed, a cry escaping him. He could feel Mycroft smirk around his cock, jaw held carefully in place to avoid tearing anything that particularly shouldn’t be torn.

As the finger pushed in and out of him, he felt Mycroft continue to sink down until he had taken him all the way, nose brushing John’s pubic hair. John could barely breathe, he was so tense, fingers gripping the sheets tightly, sharp gasps escaping him as he tried to keep his body under control, tried not to thrust, to take, to want. He had to stay stay still.

A second finger was added, and Mycroft scissored gently, humming around John’s cock as he did so. John cried out, sobbing with the effort of keeping himself still. He was restrained without physically being so, unable to move without risk to his health. “Fuck, fucking - fucking hell, Mycroft,” he sobbed, his cock throbbing, nearly out of his mind with want.

Then Mycroft swallowed, hooking his fingers just so, grazing his prostate, and John shrieked as he came, his mind going blank. He wasn’t sure what he said. Probably Mycroft’s name. Maybe a garbled blend of syllables. Either way, it was embarrassing.

When he opened his eyes, Mycroft was watching him intently, searching his face for something. John blinked fuzzily back, lost in a post-orgasmic haze. “Ahh, John. You think we’re done, don’t you?”

John searched for something to say, something intelligent. “Yes?” he hazarded. That was intelligent, right?

Mycroft’s smile was wicked, and John felt familiar heat gather low in his stomach. “We have only just begun.”


End file.
